


I'm here, I'm here, I'm here

by Daphnean



Series: My EXO Challenge [14]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety Attacks, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:13:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8156957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daphnean/pseuds/Daphnean
Summary: Yixing has bad days and Bad Days. Jongin's been working on making both of them a little bit easier to handle.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This gets pretty deep into anxiety and anxiety disorders for a little piece.
> 
> The prompt for this was "Person A is sick and Person B takes care of them," which would be cute enough with this pairing, but I loved the idea of this being a different kind of illness. As someone who has struggled with anxiety her entire life, I wanted to create the sort of story I'd love to see presented more, where having anxiety is treated just like any other sickness of the body with support, treatment, and comfort. This is a bit shorter than my usual pieces as well, but I liked it how it is; a short snippet into this couple's life.

After three hours of lying awake in bed, his many attempts to distract his head all failing, Yixing knew this wasn’t the sort of funk he’d work himself out of. His stomach felt like a ball in his body, rolling in tight, quick circles as acid fought up his throat. Twice he’d sat on his bathroom floor, dry heaving into the toilet until he could temporarily calm himself and drag his lethargic, heavy body back onto his bed. 

Looking again at the clock, he knew he’d need to call in now if he wanted off of work. It was easy enough, his boss Joonmyun would only ask if he was okay and if it was a personal day or a sick day. And although neither really fit, he did at least have a sour stomach, which was close enough to a sick day without needing further explanation. He picked up his phone, closing the Youtube app where he’d been trying to watch videos and focus on them instead of the constant feed of anxious thought pouring into his consciousness since three in the morning, and called in.

Knowing he’d failed at making it to work weighed heavy on his stomach, his well-being even if he was smart enough to know under all the anxiety that there’s no way he would have gotten any work done throughout the shift anyways. He’d have taken far too many bathroom breaks, skipped his meals, and stared off into space until he’d likely only get a few pages of editing completed. But the insatiable hunger of his mental illness laughed in the face of logic, greedily taking his doubts and bloating them, consuming them as it grew in his head.

His phone vibrated, a message from Jongin on KKT, featuring his favorite puppy emoticon. Every morning on his way to the studio or as he walked his dogs, his boyfriend would send him some cheerful little message talking about how much he couldn’t wait to see him or that he loved him. 

Would he love him like this? Yixing asked himself questions he didn’t want to know the answer to, even if the anxiety always answered the same. No, he wouldn’t. 

Yixing didn’t want to bother him, didn’t want him to see him with his hair greasy and mussed, in just some faded pajama pants and tangled sheets. But he also wanted to see him more than he could possibly explain to anyone right now.

He called once, ended it before anyone could answer, and was about to stir his insides up to dry heaving as he tried to work up the nerve to call again when Jongin called him. After a moment of ringing, he answered.

“Hyung, are you having a bad morning?” All his innocence aside, Jongin always knew. Yixing could send him the same text message on a good day or bad, and the younger man could always read the characters laced between his words.

His eyes started to sting, shame tight around his ribcage. “Yes.”

“Do you need me to come over or do you need me to give you space?” Jongin was walking his dogs, he could hear Jjangah yipping in the background. His boyfriend’s voice seemed soft and even, and he could imagine the concern in his eyes and the slope of his frown.

“I don’t know.” A break this time, in the middle of his sentence, his accent a little thicker. “I just…”

Jongin softly chastised his puppies, and then his voice grew clearer again. “I could come over? I have my kit in my car.”

“Kit?” Yixing tried to remember the breathing exercises his therapist Jongdae had recommended, how grounding himself to his body could keep him from spiraling.

Jongin’s breathing was loud, he always held his phone too close to his mouth. “I put it together, after that bad day a couple months ago. I think you’ll like it.”

Yixing focused on Jongin’s breathing instead, even if it was ragged and quick from his walk. “Do you have class today?”

“Sehun can cover for me. He owes me after I covered his shift so he could go on that date with Kyungsoo-hyung last month. And the month before that, too. Besides, the second year ballerinas are an easy group.” Jongin’s keys had a bell on them, and Yixing could hear it as he fumbled. He was back at his apartment now.

“The dogs-” Yixing began, but Jongin snuffed the question out quickly.

“I’ll leave a note for Taemin. Monggu likes him better anyways, the little traitor.” Jongin’s grumbling was cute, even if Yixing couldn’t see his face. It made him smile, anyways, even if everything in his head felt so sick and wrong.

There was a moment of silence, shuffling and leashes likely being undone.“I’ll be there in ten, hyung. Just breathe for me, okay?”

Yixing exhaled, the sound shaky and his chest still tight. “Okay.”

“I love you.” Jongin never ended a call without the words, even if they’d fought for two hours prior.

Yixing gripped his phone tighter. “I love you too.”

\--

The ten minutes felt like hours, his body on a spit as he rolled and tossed and played music to try and stop the stream of self-loathing and anxiety from burning him to ash from the inside out. He’d hit a fever pitch, the high note and hadn’t even heard the door open until Jongin had slid into bed beside him, fall chill on his hoodie and sweatpants.

Yixing fell into him, sobbing into his chest. He babbled anxious nothingness into the fabric, tears and mucus making the words and thoughts nonsensical. People always assumed he was anxious about things that were rational, that in time he’d get over the feelings, but some days he had an attack over the time he tripped and pantsed himself in front of the entire third grade, personal attributes he disliked about himself, or other inconsequential things that his brain held onto like a hoarder as it shoved more and more anxiety into him each day until it spilled out like this.  
�  
Jongin held him close, one hand rubbing his back, his soft, low voice repeating the same reassuring phrases over and over again. It’s okay, hyung. I love you, hyung. You’re allowed to have bad days. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.

He passed out after that, drug under by his negative thoughts. Jongin was still holding him when he woke, and he wanted to greet him, but the idea of opening his eyes made his head throb violently in protest. Crying headaches were always the worst part of his anxiety hangover besides the aftershocks. He stirred a little, curling his fingers into Jongin’s shirt. He must have stripped the hoodie off at some point.

“Hyung." Jongin’s voice was soft, warm against his scalp and hair. “Your head hurt?”

Yixing nodded. This wasn't the first anxiety attack that Jongin had stayed with him through.

Jongin kissed his hair and came back a moment later. “I shut the curtains. I have a bottle of water and some aspirin.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes, meeting Jongin’s worried expression with tear-swollen eyes. He took a long drink of water, then the medicine while Jongin brushed the hair from his forehead.

“Hey, you,” he said after a moment, his smile radiant and warm but his eyes still holding all the worry his mouth had before. Jongin always complained he had no poker face.

Yixing closed his eyes again, the anxiety still a low storm, thunder on the horizon, but he didn’t know if it’d blow away or return. “Hey.”

“Feel up to eating?” Jongin moved to lay beside him proper, weight shifting on the bed.

“God, no.” Yixing knew he’d need to eat, but it was far too close to his attack to think of things like that currently. 

Jongin didn’t push. “Okay. I brought my kit. Do you want to see?”

He couldn’t deny his curiosity, keeping his eyes closed as the steady throbbing continued behind his eyes. “Yes.”

“You’ll kind of need your eyes open,” Jongin teased, bed shifting as he moved again.

Yixing slowly opened them, a dark blue backpack settled between them. “Weren’t you going to donate that last month?”

Jongin grinned, shameless. “I had a better idea for it.”

He opened the bag and pulled out coloring books (the ones for actual children, not the new stress-relief adult kind) and crayons, lime green kinetic sand, one of Yixing’s favorite hoodies he’d left at Jongin’s house, his favorite movie The Last Unicorn, and a giant stuffed lamb with soft fleece fur. 

Yixing almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing; it looked like a babysitter’s emergency stash. At the same time, he imagined Jongin, shy but determined, making a list of his favorite comforting things and putting this together for when he had Bad Days. He felt this hysterical mix of touched and amused, hand coming to his mouth as his eyes went teary again.

And of course, Jongin noticed, fingers on the little stuffed lamb as he worried his lower lip with his teeth. “I…is it bad?”

“No.” Yixing took his fingers away from the fleece and tugged him in for a soft kiss. “No, I…you made this all for me.”

Jongin relaxed. “It can’t make it go away, nothing can, but it can soothe your heart until it fades, right? Jongdae recommended a kit and I probably should have-”

He stopped him with a kiss, able to remember under all the anxiety that yes, yes he did deserve this man in his life, even if he never felt like it.

“Thank you, Jonginnie.” He took his hand in both of his. “I…I’m not going to be very good company today, even with all this.”

“That’s what smartphones and Netflix are for, hyung.” Jongin smiled down at him, propping himself up on an elbow. “And there’s plenty of coloring books for both of us.”

Yixing gave a small laugh, the sound feeling almost impossible coming from his weak heart. “Can we take a shower first?”

Jongin nodded, crawling out of the bed and offering his hand. “I’ll wash your hair for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> EXO and all other Kpop entertainers presented here are real people and so I remind you that this is just a fic, like a play with their stage personas as the actors. This is not intended to be a representation of who these men and women are or are not. Remember to love and respect them always. And thanks for reading! <3


End file.
